


This is Right

by De_Umbris_Idearum



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Boys In Love, Kissing, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, No wedding, Post-Season/Series 03 Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-28 17:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7650595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/De_Umbris_Idearum/pseuds/De_Umbris_Idearum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John comes to a conclusion that he should have made before it got this far. But, now it's going to be all right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is Right

**Author's Note:**

> I'm new to the fandom, and clearly very late to it as well. But this is my first attempt and any and all mistakes are my own. This is not Beta'd nor Brit-picked.
> 
> Enjoy

This wedding was wrong. This day was wrong. All of it was just…wrong. John stared at himself in the mirror, adjusting his tie for what was probably the umpteenth time. Sherlock was talking about something, rattling on as he usually did. It was comforting, hearing the man just talk. The deep tenor of his voice filling the silence and making things seem less suffocating. Dark eyes flitted toward the man’s reflection and John simply watched him for a long moment. He wasn’t an idiot, he saw things despite what people seemed to think about him.

He knew the truth.

Sherlock wasn’t so great at hiding it.

Soon enough John found himself standing there, looking around the room. It was a garish yellow and yet it probably complimented the purple – lavender – dresses well. A sickening feeling settled in his stomach and John tightened his grip on his own hands. He had a decision to make. One he should have made weeks ago. Sherlock hovered again by his shoulder, whispering things about some of the guests and it still made John laugh.

We can’t giggle at a crime scene, it’s not appropriate.

Those words seemed a lifetime ago, but that’s what always happened, didn’t it? John and Sherlock would always be giggling at inappropriate times. A hush fell over the people gathered and John watched his lovely bride approach. His heart seized painfully as his eyes tracked her movements. Mary was lovely, honestly. And she’d be a good, if not secretive, wife for someone. But was that someone John? He reached out and took her hand, the veil flipped back, and the expression in Mary’s eyes nearly floored him.

This was wrong.

She knew it was wrong.

John knew it was wrong.

The vicar was speaking something, his voice a dull hum in the background as John watched the face in front of him. There was something telling. The two shared a private mental conversation. Mary didn’t want this anymore. Maybe she never meant for it to get this far. John tilted his head ever so slightly, a subtle shift that only Mary and Sherlock would have picked up on. His gaze flickered toward the people just outside his line of sight. Mary offered a tiny shake of denial. Someone else then. Someone she’d been hoping would show and stop this joke of a wedding.

“John Hamish Watson,” the use of his full name – hadn’t they agreed not to do that? – drew John’s attention back to the ceremony at hand. “Do you take Mary Morstan to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

The blonde lowered her head, apologetic and accepting. The silence stretched for a moment as John thought about the question, about what to really do. Mary lifted her head, curiosity bright in her resigned gaze. John offered her a tired smile and a look of understanding crossed her face.

“No.” John murmured, looking down at Mary’s hand clasped in his. She was trembling.

The Vicar looked stunned. “What? Speak up.”

“No, I can’t do this.” John stated, his voice clear with conviction.

“John?” Sherlock was concerned, worried for his friend. “John what are you doing?”

“I don’t…” Mary stopped herself and offered a small watery smile. “You too?”

John laughed. “Me too. I’m sorry Mary.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “I’m sorry that I let it get this far. I’m sorry that he didn’t come for you, whoever it is that you truly love. I can’t do this to us.”

Mary blinked rapidly, trying to stop the tears from falling. “John, you’re too good to be real. I’m sorry that I…”

John shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I did it too. Stay, enjoy this…”

“I won’t enjoy this…it’s not…” The doors opened and Mary was cut off as she glanced over, eyes widening as she took in the man standing there. “You’re here!”

“Have this Mary, finish your wedding.” John said as he kissed her cheek one last time and pulled away.

Sherlock looked lost, dumbfounded in fact as he watched John slip around the pews as hushed conversations exploded. John didn’t look back as he left, slipping out the door to stand on the steps of the church, taking a deep breath. Now what?

“John?”

The man in question glanced over to look at Sherlock, hovering uncertainly against the door. “Sherlock.”

Sherlock frowned as he moved over. “Why?”

John laughed and shook his head. “You saw why.”

“Home?” Sherlock prompted after a long moment of contemplative silence, intelligent eyes flying over John’s face rapidly.

“Yeah, let’s go home.” John answered with a small smile.

Night had fallen over London and John found himself in his chair at Baker Street, nursing a cup of tea while Sherlock stood at the window staring over the darkening city.

“You didn’t go through with the wedding.” Sherlock stated after a moment, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.

John snorted. “Brilliant deduction there Sherlock.”

The man chuckled and turned to look at John. “I’ve figured out why. Tedious and dull reasons for Mary. But, there is one thing I can’t place.”

“Should I alert the press?” John asked, ignoring the tightening panic in his chest. If he thought Mary’s reasons were dull and tedious, what would he think of John’s reason behind canceling the wedding?

“John,” Clearly Sherlock wasn’t amused. “You told Mary ‘me too.’” Sherlock gave him a long searching look that burned through to the core. “What did that mean? You too.”

John sighed and set his mug down before standing and moving over instead to lean partially against the mantel of the fireplace as if looking for strength. He stared for a long moment at the skull sitting there before letting out another sigh. “Me too, Mary was in love with someone else. I couldn’t put us in that position, being married to someone else.”

“You’re in love with someone that isn’t Mary.” Sherlock was right behind John now, the ex-soldier jumped slightly as he hadn’t heard him approach. “Who?”

John sighed again. “Sherlock…”

“Who John?”

There was something in his tone, something desperate and it made John take pause. Was it possible? Of course it was possible. John had seen it from the start, from the moment he’d asked Sherlock to be his best man. Stupid of him now that he thought about it. He turned look at Sherlock, normally he’d bristle at being cornered in such a manner but this was okay. This closeness and intimacy, even if unintentional, was nice and welcomed.

“You, you daft git.” John muttered, a small smile on his face at the stunned look he received. “It’s you. God I think it’s always been you.”

“Me?” Sherlock repeated, a frown on his face. “I…”

John nodded softly. “Yes you, I don’t know how you didn’t pick up on it. I haven’t really been subtle now have I lately?”

Sherlock offered a weak smile. “I was afraid I was projecting what I wanted to see during those times.”

John said nothing, humming in response, before reaching out and pulling Sherlock closer to him. There was a moment, of hesitation, an opportunity to pull away – to keep the dynamic what it had always been – an out from what was about to happen. Neither took it. If asked, neither would be able to say who moved first in the end. But they came together, a gentle touch of the lips before the kiss seemed to take a life of it’s own and the chaste curiosity burned away into a fierce and passionate demand for more.

Somehow the two ended up stumbling back through the living room and falling onto the couch, Sherlock landing rather humorously on John in a tangle of limbs. They laughed breathlessly as they corrected the awkward angles and curled up around each other, Sherlock pressed along the back of the couch and John tucked perfectly against him. They shared lazy kisses, marveling in the sensation of acceptance and wholeness. Of perfection.

This…this was not wrong. This was right.


End file.
